


and i'm not afraid to sleep now

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grieving, i did it, there's no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15042326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: A conversation at Phil Coulson's graveside.





	and i'm not afraid to sleep now

The plastic wrapped around the flowers crinkles loudly as he sets them beside the headstone, and Hunter winces at the noise. Everything seems too loud in the cemetery. He’s never much liked them - cemeteries, that is. It’s morbid, to line the dead up in rows and force people to tread on them. It’s morbid, to let some people lie forgotten while their neighbors are clothed with lilies. It’s always fucking lilies.

He stares at the headstone for a few moments longer, wondering if he should say something. He’s always been shit with words, and now is no exception. But Hunter says something anyways, because he doubts he’ll ever come back here again.

“Sorry, mate.” He blows out a breath. “Thanks for giving me a chance. Wish I’d done better with it.” And that’s all there really is to say. Coulson had given him a job, a life, and for a few precious months, a family. Hunter already lost everything else, but now Coulson’s gone too, and that hurts.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning away from Coulson’s grave. He only manages one step before a voice interrupts his thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” Shit. It’s May.

“I’m going,” Hunter answers, trying to placate her. He’s not in the mood for a fight, and May already sounds pissed.

“You shouldn’t have come in the first place.” Her voice is no softer than the first time she spoke, and Hunter’s shoulders sag.

“I said I’m _going_.” He turns his back to her, heading towards the treeline. He’s parked on the other side of the small forest. He and Bobbi shook their tails a long time ago, but some things have become habit anyways.

Hunter’s surprised by the sudden warmth of a hand on his arm, and surprised too by the gentleness of the touch. He didn’t know Melinda May could be gentle with anyone except Coulson and her kids - that was, Daisy and Jemma and Fitz.

“What’s gotten into you?” May asks. Hunter just shakes his head. Nothing’s gotten into him - everything’s just been sucked out of him. He had expected May to notice, because the woman notices _everything_ , but he hadn’t expected her to give a damn.

“You look tired.” She switches tacks. Hunter wants to scream at her, because she shouldn’t care about him. He doesn’t deserve that. But he doesn’t scream.

“Gotta work.” Hunter’s voice is neutral as he shrugs.

“Is that where Bobbi is?” May asks.

Hunter feels like he’s been sucker punched in the stomach.

“Bobbi’s gone,” he manages when he’s regained his breath.

May frowns. “You two called it quits?” She asks. Hunter wonders if she’s purposefully misunderstanding him.

“Bobbi’s _gone_ ,” he repeats slowly. “Wherever it is they go.” Hunter waves his hand vaguely in the air, tracing the motion with his eyes to keep the tears from coming.

The silence between them takes up all the oxygen.

“How?” May asks eventually.

“We were in over our heads.” Hunter squeezes his hands into fists, fighting vainly against the anger bubbling in his throat. They never should have taken the job, and then she’d still be _here_. Bobbi had paid the price for their arrogance. “She couldn’t walk, and if I carried her they would have gotten both of us, and…” He can’t finish the sentence.

 _I killed Bobbi_. The thought slams into him with no less force than it had the first time, or the fifth time, or the hundredth time. It’s been three months, but every time it still feels like being hit by a freight train at full speed.

This was supposed to get easier, but Hunter swears it just gets harder.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” May says.

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Hunter snaps. “You know damn well I blame myself. Just like you probably blame yourself for him.” He flings an arm towards Coulson’s gravesite.

“The difference between us is that I don’t let my guilt control me.” Hunter hates how calm May still is, even in the face of all of this.

“I loved _one_ person. Just one.” His throat is tight. “And she died _alone_ and _in pain_ because I couldn’t save her.” He couldn’t save her, but he also couldn’t put her out of her misery, because he was a coward. A fucking coward, just like he had always been. “I’ll let that control me all I want.”

May slaps him. Hard.

“Do you really think this is what Bobbi would have wanted?” She asks. Hunter wonders when she’s going to cut all the bullshit, because all May is saying are the canned lines he’s heard a hundred million times before.

“Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck what she would have wanted! She’s _dead_!” Why doesn’t May _get it_? She should understand, because the person she loved is six feet under, too. “I know that I had sins to atone for, but I never thought it would be Bobbi.” It made sense, in hindsight. He would pay his debts with the only thing that meant anything to him: her.

What happens next feels like a product of anger-induced hallucinations.

May hugs him.

Hunter doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hasn’t been hugged since - well, since before Bobbi died. And he’s never been hugged by Melinda May, and he’s just… really confused.

But he hugs her back. Because he wants to, and because everything hurts, and for just a minute, he wants someone else to hold him together. Hunter sags into May’s arms, his forehead resting against her head as his shoulders shake.

“Bobbi didn’t die to pay for your sins.” May says, her hand curving behind his head to stroke through his hair. “You did that on your own.”

As if this day couldn’t get any weirder. Melinda May _complimenting_ him?

“She didn’t deserve it,” he whispers. “She deserved so much better… so much better than me.”

“Probably.” May agrees, and he wheezes out a laugh, because that’s more like the May he remembers. “But she chose you.”

 _Bad choice_ , the voice in Hunter’s head insists.

 _Oh, shut up_ , he thinks back. Maybe it pissed him off to think about it, but May’s right; if Bobbi was here, she would not be having any of this self-pitying bullshit.

She’d get a kick out of watching May hug him, though.

“Sucks to be the one left behind,” Hunter says when may releases him from the hug.

“Yeah,” May agrees, eyes lingering on the tombstone behind them.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you behind again,” Hunter says apologetically. He’s already been here too long.

“What if you didn’t?”

“What?” Hunter’s dumbfounded.

“Phil would kill me if I let you go running off after that spectacular meltdown.” May says with a shrug. “We can work something out.”

Hunter looks at May warily. “I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” He tells her.

“No, you shouldn’t.” She agrees.

“Okay,” Hunter says. “I’ll come back. After I get some things.” He doesn’t have much, but there are memories of Bobbi in the little he does have, and he won’t let those go for anything.

May nods, back to her normal stoic self. Hunter’s halfway to the forest when May calls out to him.

“Hunter?” He turns around to look at her. “We will never be out of second chances for you.” She pauses. “But I still don’t like you.”

 _Right_ , he thinks as he picks up his pace to a jog. _Keep telling yourself that_.

**Author's Note:**

> I DID IT I WROTE ANGST WITHOUT A HAPPY ENDING THANKS FOR READING


End file.
